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The Death of the Mad Monk

Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin (1872-1916)

Felix had crossed paths with Rasputin on several occasions, none of which he seemed to enjoy. He referred to Rasputin a “that beggar” and “that dirty man”, and spoke disparagingly of him to several friends and correspondents. He was, however, careful to exercise caution in who he shared this opinion with, as he knew that Rasputin was regarded with an almost religious awe by the Czarina and her family. Rasputin was rumored to have healed Aleksy, the Czar’s hemophiliac son, by a simple laying on of hands when the child had suffered a terrible bleeding episode. After that, Rasputin could do no wrong in the eyes of the Royal Family, and to speak ill of him was to risk the wrath of the Czar.

Felix Yussupov claimed his murder of Rasputin was done out of political considerations and loyalty to Russia, but his real motives are elusive. Certainly, Felix had never shown any interest previous to this in politics or his country, and murder seems rather an extreme way to express this newly formed interest. His claim in questionable especially when seen in light of of the numerous mentions of a ‘scandal’ involving Felix that Rasputin was threatening to take to the Czarina. This scandal apparently involved Czar Nicholas’ young first cousin and ward, Dmitri Pavlovich Romanov. Nicholas and Czarina Aleksandra were concerned about Felix’s ‘bad influence’ on Dmitri, although they never expressed in writing what their specific concerns were.

Felix himself intimates an intense relationship with Dmitri in his memoir, without illuminating the full extent of their attachment. It seems obvious something was being concealed, and Felix mentioned to several friends that he was worried “Rasputin means to malign me to the Czar”.

Felix’s involvement in the death of Rasputin is well known from his own accounts of the murder – albeit in several different versions. In brief, Felix, the young ward Dmitri and a sympathetic Royal guard all conspired to lure Rasputin to Felix’s palatial home on the Moika. Arriving at the door to the apartments of Felix and his wife Irina, Rasputin was escorted downstairs into the family’s private chambers. What happened next is not clear.

Felix claimed they tried to poison Rasputin with rose cream cakes and Madeira laced with cyanide. Due to his reported ‘superhuman strength’, Rasputin was not knocked unconscious by the poison, but rather revived on a bear skin rug, where he ‘leered’ at Felix and screamed “I shall tell the Empress”. The panicked conspirators then grabbed a revolver and shot Rasputin in the courtyard of the palace. Dragging his body to a remote canal, they dumped it through a hole in the ice, and prayed it would drift away on the current.

Some experts are skeptical that the events took place in the melodramatic manner recounted. The details seem inflated to create the idea that Rasputin was a ‘mad monk’, a man imbued with powerful, dark, evil powers which he was exercising over the Royal family.

Most recently, a story has arisen that asserts Yussupov wasn’t actually even the one who murdered Rasputin. A headlining story in the Telegraph UK Newspaper asserts that it was Oswald Rayner, a member of the British Secret Intelligence Bureau who was working at the Russian court in St Petersburg, who fired the shot that finished Rasputin off.

A French Bulldog Fancier in Exile

Prince Felix and friend with French Bulldog, 1909

Whatever the truth of the circumstances leading to the death of Rasputin, Felix and Dmitri were sentenced by the Czar to exile for their part in it, a punishment that possibly saved the life of Dmitri, since it placed him far from the revolution that killed most of the Russian Royal family.

With the murder of Rasputin, Prince Felix became a minor hero to the Russian populace. Fame, however, didn’t last long with the coming of the revolution. When popular opinion turned, and the Czar and his family were put to death, Felix and his wife fled to the Crimea with their families. Ever resourceful, Felix managed to retrieve a few valuables from one of his palaces before his final flight to exile. Felix later sold two Rembrandts to help fund his new life. The paintings now hang in the National Gallery in Washington, DC.

Felix Yusupov and French Bulldog in Paris, 1929

Felix eventually settled into a life of exile in Paris, where he and wife Irina established “Irfe” – a haute couture and perfume line. A model for the house of Irfe describes Felix as “dressed like a Khan” in middle Eastern splendour, his “French Bull at his side”. She also mentioned Felix never hesitated to try on a dress himself, in order to show the models “how it should best be worn”.

Felix continued to own and love French Bulldogs, as he himself mentioned in his memoir, “Lost Splendour” –

“I have always been an admirer of style, and no pet could be as stylish and smart as a French Bulldog”.

Felix Yusupov in his Paris apartment, 1960’s

While in Paris, Felix and his wife Irina became friends with the exiled Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Like many expatriate friends of the Windsors, Felix owned several Pugs, but he never lost his particular fondness for French Bulldogs – and for the name Gugusse, a moniker he gave to four of his Frenchies. There is speculation that Felix and Irina, like many fashionable people in their circle, dabbled in breeding French Bulldogs, but no concrete proof of this exists outside of this brief line in a letter Irina wrote to a friend:

We have thought that the puppies would be most splendid if we did breed our French Bull girl, for she is a wonderful example of her kind. If we do, I should be happy to send one of the puppies to you.

In his memoir, Felix said that he hoped to “never be without (a French Bulldog)”, a goal he seems to have achieved.

In the course of my research into the story of Ortino and Tatiana, I encountered the famous portrait of Prince Felix Felixovich Yussupov* and his French Bulldog. The painting, which now hangs in the Kremlin Gallery, was painted by Royal portrait painter Valentin Serov. Intrigued, I soon learned that the fresh faced young boy pictured so tenderly cradling his dog was one of the cadre of royalists responsible for the murder of Rasputin.

Almost one hundred years after his death the legend of Grigory Rasputin, The Mad Monk and “Little Father”, lives on. Confidant and advisor to the Court of Czar Nicholi Romanov, the man referred to simply as “Our Friend” by the Czar’s wife and family in their diaries was reputed to have mesmerizing powers, and was loathed for the influence he exercised in the court of the last Czar of the Russias. His power was especially galling to the influential and wealthy Yussupov family, who were not used to having to share the ear of the Romanovs.

An aristocratic family of great reputation and illustrious history, the Yusupovs were among the wealthiest and most influential families in Czarist Russia. Yussupov estates dotted the Russian landscape from the Crimea to Moscow and St. Petersburg, and the splendor of their palaces rivaled even that of those of the Czar of Russia in scale and sumptuousness. In the capital, the Yussupovs had three palaces, including a sprawling building on the Moika canal, which was the family’s primary residence.

A flamboyant young man of striking good looks, Felix was the second of two sons born to Princess Zanaida Yussupova and her husband, Count Elston-Sumarkoff. Felix was infamous for his high spirited antics. He delighted in dressing in his mother’s finest clothes when frequented the nightclubs of pre revolution Russia. There is a story that Felix himself loved to spread, intimating that none other than Edward VII of England (a fellow French Bulldog fancier) tried one night to make the acquaintance of a certain ‘beautiful and mysterious woman’. That woman, of course, was Felix in masquerade.

Felix was considered to be quite vain about his looks – not surprising, since he was often referred to as “the most handsome man in Russia”. This vanity extended to Felix’s French Bulldog, Gugusse, who is pictured with him in his famous portrait. Gugusse, who was originally christened “Napoleon”, was purchased by Felix and his mother on the Rue de la Paix in Paris, during a trip to the Paris Exhibition of 1900.

Felix insisted that it was Surov who requested Gugusse pose in the portrait with his master, calling the dog “his best subject”. As shown in photographs, Gugusse had drop ears – incorrect for a French Bulldog, according to the newly written French Bulldog standard. Felix, not wanting to have his French Bulldog portrayed as anything less than perfect, had Serov paint Gugusse with the proper “bat” ears the newly written standard specified.

Felix and his French bulldog, Gugusse, in portrait by Valentin Surov

Felix writes quite extensively about Gugusse in his memoirs –

For eighteen years, Gugusse was my devoted and inseparable companion. He soon became quite famous, for everyone knew and loved him, from members of the Imperial family to the least of our peasants. He was a real Parisian guttersnipe who loved to be dressed up, put on an air of importance when he was photographed, adored candy and champagne… He was most amusing when slightly tipsy. He used to suffer from flatulence and would trot to the fireplace, stick his backside into the hearth and look up with an apologetic expression.

Gugusse loved some people and hated others, and nothing could stop him from showing his dislike by relieving himself on the trousers or the skirts of his enemies. He had such an aversion for one of my mother’s friends that we were obliged to shut him up whenever she called at the house. She came one day in a lovely gown of pink velvet, a Worth creation. Unfortunately, we had forgotten to lock up Gugusse; no sooner had she entered the room than he made a dash for her. The gown was ruined and the poor lady had hysterics.

Gugusse could have performed in a circus. Dressed as a jockey, he would ride a tiny pony or, with a pipe stuck between his teeth, would pretend to smoke. He used to love going out with the guns, and would bring in game like a retriever.

The head of the Holy Synod (*Supreme Council of the Russian Orthodox Church.) called on my mother one day and, to my mind, stayed far too long. I resolved that Gugusse should create a diversion. I made him up as an old cocotte, sparing neither powder nor paint, rigged him out in a dress and wig and pushed him into the drawing room. Gugusse seemed to understand what was expected of him, for he made a sensational entry on his hind legs, to the dismay of our visitor who very quickly took his leave, which was exactly what I wanted.

I was never parted from my dog: he went everywhere with me and slept on a cushion by my bed, When Serov, the well-known artist, painted my portrait, he insisted that Gugusse should be in the picture, saying that the dog was his best model.

Gugusse reached the ripe old age of eighteen and when he died I buried him in the garden of our house on the Moika.

An inveterate playboy, Prince Felix was well traveled, and had visited most of the great cities of Europe. He completed his education at Oxford in England, where he resided in a stylish London flat which he had painted black and carpeted with lavender floor coverings. Felix quickly became the center of fashionable society, enjoying a care free life of parties, balls and theatre. While in London, Felix acquired another Frenchie, an event he mentioned in a letter to his friend Dmitri Yannovich:

“I have now a new pet, a charming little French Bull Dog, given to me by our friend Andrei. He is simply too charming with his little prick ears, but does snore rather insufferably. I shall bring him with me when I return home”.

Felix with his family and Punch, the French Bulldog he was given while at Oxford

Felix referred to Punch as “most eccentric”, and claimed that checked patterns – even if on linoleum flooring- drove Punch wild. In his memoir, Felix recounts stories of Punch’s antics, and his hatred for checked fabrics –

One day when I was at Davies my tailor’s, a very smartly dressed old gentleman, wearing a checked suit, came in. Before I could stop him, Punch rushed at him and tore a huge piece out of his trousers.

On another occasion I went with a friend to her furrier’s; Punch noticed a sable muff encircled by a black and white checked scarf. He immediately seized it and rushed out of the shop with it. I, and everyone else at the furrier’s, ran after him halfway down Bond Street, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that we managed to catch him and retrieve the muff, happily almost intact.

As he had mentioned in his letter to Dmitri Yannovich, Felix did indeed bring Punch back home to Russia with him during the holidays, and planned to then bring him back to Oxford when classes resumed. Felix, unfortunately, had forgotten that dogs entering England were required to stay in quarantine for six months. Not one to conform to society’s requirements, Felix devised a plan to spare Punch ‘jail time’ –

As six months in quarantine was out of the question, I decided to evade the law. On my way to Oxford in the autumn, I passed through Paris and went to see an old Russian ex-cocotte (nb: prostitute) whom I knew. I asked her to come to London with me; she would have to dress as a nurse and carry Punch, disguised as a baby. The old lady agreed at once, as the idea amused her immensely, although at the same time it frightened her to death.

The next day, we left for London after giving “Baby” a sleeping draught so as to keep him quiet during the journey, Everything went smoothly and not a soul suspected the fraud.

Felix apparently owned several more French Bulldogs during this time period. In a letter he wrote to a family friend in 1914, Felix wrote:

“I am greatly pleased with the French Bull bitch my friend has just sent me from Paris. She is of finest quality and pleasing color.

I shall look for another such when I travel there again in May”.

* Note: throughout my research I have seen the name “Yussupov” spelled several different ways, likely due to various translations from the Cyrillic. For the sake of clarity, I have chosen to use the spelling Prince Felix himself seems to have used most often. – back to top

I had been hoping for a nice, long break between litters, but as usual my girls have decided that they’d prefer to take my best laid plans and toss them out the window. To whit, Paris and Journey, the only two girls I had solid plans to breed this year, have both decided to come into season. Since they might not come in again for another 18 months, it’s now or never, in which case I choose ‘now’, of course.

So, I’m skipping Wiarton today to haul Paris in for progesterone, LH and draminski testing. Since we are breeding her via frozen semen (Rebel’s frozen semen, in case you were wondering), timing is of the absolute essence. We’ll only inseminate her once, surgically. And yes, it’s expensive, thanks for asking. Like the oh so funny quote says –

Want to know how to make a small fortune breeding dogs? Start with a large fortune.

I’ll start hauling Journey in on Monday, when her blood flow is heavier – she’s in the very first days of her cycle, so we have time still. I’m still on the fence about who I’m breeding her to, although the list is narrowed down to two dogs. In both cases, we’ll be shipping in fresh semen via overnight express, and crossing our fingers that no one at customs delays the packages ‘for inspection’. Yes, it’s happened, thanks for asking.

That’s probably more than anyone wanted to know, isn’t it? In case it isn’t, and you want to know more about the fertility cycle of the canine, try this link.

Any newcomer to the short, succinct and silent film collages by T. J. Wilcox might assume they’re all about film editing finesse and technique….

…Yet even more central to Wilcox’s practice is the understanding of the varied ways in which each different film form reinvents the narrative….

Garlands 1-6 (2003-2005) consists of six film mini-collections, each with a number of different vignettes explored in a variety of ways that seamlessly relate to one another.

One of the Garlands includes a visit to three favourite sites where a woman named Ann – one of the narrator’s “four parents” – wants her ashes scattered; the morbid story of Ortino, a Romanov daughter’s pet French bulldog buried along with members of the Russian royal family following their July 16, 1917, assassination by revolutionaries; and, last, a snippet of crude animation.

Years back, I wrote an article for the French Bullytin detailing the story of Anastasia Romanov and her French Bulldog, Ortino. I’ve reprinted the article in its entirety below.

Of all the family’s dogs, few are as frequently mentioned as “Ortino”, Princess Tatiana’s French Bulldog. Tatiana was the second oldest of the Tsar’s daughters, and was seventeen years old at the time Ortino came into her life. Excerpts from Tatiana’s diary detail how she obtained him, and how very fond she was of her pet –

1914 October 12

“Anya brought me from Malama a small French Bulldog (Ortino). It is a very cute little thing – I am so happy.”

1914 October 15

“We had dinner with father, mother and NP (Sablin, a family friend). The dog was sitting with me… he is adorable.”

Tatiana, Anastasia and Ortino on the grounds of Alexandar Palace

In the strict confines of the palace, the royal pets were allowed amazing freedom to behave just as Frenchies in the most casual households still do today. Ortino and Olga’s cat Vaska were special favorites of the family, and had free run of the palace. In a scene familiar to all owners of French Bulldogs, Ortino and Vaska would chase one another across furniture and table tops, knocking over priceless objects and scattering papers in the process. Rather than being scolded, these antics proved the royal family with a great deal of amusement.

Tatiana mentions Ortino’s playful nature in letters to her father, saying “My doggy Ortino was running about the room and playing during the teatime. It is so funny and sweet”, and “We are sitting in Mother’s room after dinner. Olga and Mother are playing “Colorito” and Ortino is running about the room like a mad dog”. Hardly a letter or diary entry fails to make some little mention of Ortino, and her words convey eloquently how much she treasured him. She describes Ortino as snoring gently at her feet, and even indulgently describes his occasional “accident”.

Ortino was Tatiana’s constant companion and she was rarely seen without him at her side. Like most Frenchies, Ortino insisted he be allowed to sleep with Tatiana at the foot of her bed every night. Apparently, some things about French Bulldogs never change – Ortino snored quite loudly, which disturbed Tatiana’s sister Olga, with whom she shared a room. Anastasia complained about it in her journal, writing “When we are asleep at night, all of us sisters are kept awake by Ortino, Tatiana’s French Bulldog, who snores. We have tried everything, but nothing works!” Ortino and Vaska would also disturb the sisters sleep with the occasional game of tag, but Tatiana could not be persuaded to have Ortino sleep with the other family dogs.

It seems even royalty are not immune to “Frenchie Fever” – the feeling that “If one is fun, more will be marvelous!” The Romanov’s owned at least two French Bulldogs, as this excerpt from Grand Duchess Anastasia’s diary details.

“Now we’ve got another charming French (Bull) puppy, Bille. She is so sweet. She is so charming when she plays with (Tsarevitch) Aleksey’s dog. They are quite mad and race across the floor so fast they tumble into walls and furniture. We cannot stop laughing at them.”

As pampered imperial pets, simple leather collars would simply not do. Both Olga’s cat Vaska and Ortino wore custom collars encrusted with semi precious stones, hand crafted with Faberge, the Royal jeweler. Tatiana also had a collection of figures of Ortino carved by Faberge in semi precious stones and rock crystal. These reminders of a Princess’ love for her pet have been dispersed around the world, and one may be found in the collection of the Cleveland Museum.

The placid life of the Romanov’s came to and end after the Bolshevik revolution in 1917, when they were forced into exile by the new communist regime. Even during this most difficult time in her life, Tatiana refused to part with Ortino. He is last mentioned in first hand accounts of family’s flight, which detail Tatiana “struggling to carry Ortino while dragging a suitcase through ankle deep mud and a howling crowd at the Yekaterinaburg train station”. Just two months later, at midnight on June 16th 1918, Tatiana and her entire family were executed.

In the late ’90’s, excavations were done to recover the remains of the royal family from the mine shaft where they had been flung after their executions. There, among their bones, were found the remains of what was described as a ‘small terrier type dog’ and which are assumed to be those of Ortino. His bones were taken along with those of the Royal family, and interred with due ceremony and respect in the family crypt in Moscow. Even in death, Ortino and Tatiana have not been separated.

https://i0.wp.com/www.bullmarketfrogs.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Brindle_pied_frenchbulldog.jpg?fit=662%2C662662662frogdogzhttp://www.bullmarketfrogs.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/bullmarket-logo.pngfrogdogz2008-02-02 09:52:472008-02-02 09:52:47Timing is a Bitch, and the Romanov French Bulldog on Film